


Messages from the Dead

by Althaeabuddy



Series: At the Very End [2]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Again, Angst, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, Hurt No Comfort, I'm sorry..., Spoilers through chapter 5, it's still not that shippy...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-04-19 10:17:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14235123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Althaeabuddy/pseuds/Althaeabuddy
Summary: Kaito stares up at the cold steel of the press above him, and all he can think is that this would be a terrible way to die.The relief he feels when the machine comes to a stop is overshadowed by the guilt that he’s not the one who has to worry about such a thing.





	Messages from the Dead

**Author's Note:**

> The second part to my other fic. Though I'm pretty sure this can stand alone.
> 
> I am working on another fic regarding chapter 5 that should hopefully be a little more uplifting, but I'd like to get a little further into my other fanfiction before I start any larger works.
> 
> Hope you enjoy.

Kaito’s had more than enough of all this supernatural crap.

As if being stuck in a killing game wasn’t bad enough.

That being said, it has served some purpose to him, because as much as he hates to admit he was scared of anything, that was slightly preferable to admitting to the alternative. Plus, it gives him an excuse to miss the investigation while he coughed blood into the bathroom sink.

There is more blood now than before, which can’t be a good thing, and his throat burns as he crouches over the basin, tasting the copper in his mouth.

Well, better here than in the middle of the trial. A trial for two people this time, which is a blow in and of itself. Sure Angie was creepy and weird and Chasbashira always seemed about thirty seconds away from slugging him, but he’s never wished for either of them to _die._ What kind of piece of shit would kill two people anyway. It’s unnecessarily cruel.

He’s interrupted from his thoughts by the sound of the door opening.

Shit. _Shit!_ He frantically tries to wipe away the blood on his face, turning on the sink simultaneously in the hopes of washing away some of the evidence, but there’s not nearly enough time.

He turns to look at whoever’s caught him in the act. And shrieks.

It’s not his proudest moment, but he’s already on edge and he certainly doesn’t need any more unpleasant surprises, least of all in the form of one of Kaito’s least favorite people in the school.

Ouma stands in the doorway, swaying slightly back and forth, head drenched in blood, and it takes Kaito a second to realize that he’s alive and not some sort of vengeful spirit.

Ouma winces at the sound of Kaito’s screaming, but quickly covers his face in a cheeky smile. “Wow, Momota-chan! Fancy seeing you here. You look like you’ve seen a ghost!”

Kaito scowls at him. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Nishishi, same thing you are, apparently.” Ouma makes his way over to one of the sinks, and Kaito is sure that his eyes would be glinting with mischief if he wasn’t trying so hard to keep blood out of them. He wipes at his forehead with a wet paper towel and Kaito turns his attention back to his own sink. Whatever, Ouma can do what he wants, he’s got enough to worry about as it is.

Unfortunately, Ouma is not quite as content to mind his own business. “So, Momota-chan, what’s going on with you? Surely you haven’t been hiding anything from your buddies, right? Since you hate lies so much.”

Well, he must not be injured that badly if he can still manage to be a brat. Kaito frowns. “Shut up, I don’t want to hear that coming from you.”

Ouma doesn’t respond, as he’s apparently gone back to trying to tend to his own injuries, which is even more frustrating for some reason. Of course, Kaito can’t exactly say anything, not when he just told him to shut up. Ouma would surely pounce on that.

So he opts to ignore the pest instead, doing his best to get the taste of blood out of his mouth before the trial.

 

When Kaito wakes up, his first thought is _man, that sure was a crazy dream._ Then he realizes that he’s not in his bed and he still has the VR helmet on his head. He yanks it off.

“Hey, what happened?”

No response. Apparently, everyone else is still in the virtual world, heads covered by their helmets as they sit slumped in their chairs. It’s an uncanny experience, being the only one awake, and for just a second, the though crosses his mind that they might not be asleep. His breath catches in his throat, and he half tumbles out of his chair, eyes darting back and forth between Saihara and Harukawa.

They’re both still breathing evenly, and he feels relief wash over him, along with the feeling of being slightly silly.

No, it’s not silly. It’s a perfectly valid fear that something could have happened to them while they were off in Iruma’s wonderland. He’s just being reasonable, it’s his job as the leader to make sure his sidekicks are safe.

He considers going back into the virtual world, assuming he got kicked out by way of some fluke, but decides against it. He’d prefer not to return to the uncomfortably cold place, and looking at the still forms of all his companions, he feels a bit nervous to place himself in such a vulnerable state again.

Instead, he heads back to his dorm room to take a little nap. He’s been feeling awfully tired lately. Not because he’s feeling weaker or anything, but because all his coughing has been keeping him up. The coughing from his cold. It’s a cold. It’ll go away.

He sighs. It’s kind of hard to delude himself when the quantity of blood he chokes up gets larger every day.

He tries to get some much-needed shuteye, until the dreaded sound of Monokuma and his too cheerful voice wakes him up with the announcement he’d hoped to never hear again.

 

One second Kaito’s standing there, fists clenched in rage, and the next he’s lurched forward, knuckles stinging from where they collided with Ouma’s face, and for a second, even he’s surprised by what happened.

Ouma’s small and apparently not very strong, as he stumbles forwards and only just manages to keep his balance.

It’s not like he doesn’t deserve it, not with all his bullshit about starting the killings up again. He has to be some sort of sick fuck to enjoy this kind of thing. Or else he just gets that much of a kick out of messing with them.

Kiibo scolds him, says that even small acts of violence can lead to murder, and Kaito can’t help but feel a bit ashamed as he lowers his fist. He’s not like that, though. He’s not gonna murder anyone.

Gonta starts again with his talk of fighting Monokuma, and now Kaito’s sure he’s done more harm than good. Iruma has gone off on some excited tangent, but he’s not really interested in what she has to say right now.

Ouma, for once, says nothing as he slinks off, apparently back to his room. He’s hunched over, which is weird, because he’s always walked around with such bravado. He hadn’t hurt him that badly, had he?

No, of course not. He doesn’t have a reason to feel guilty.

 

The next time he tries to hit Ouma, he’s the one who ends up on the ground instead, clutching his stomach as the other boy sneers down at him, and now he’s certain that he never should have felt any sort of guilt over hitting Ouma in the first place. Who could feel bad for a monster like that, who could kill two people in cold blood without a hint of guilt?

He wants to stand up, wants to start swinging again and hopefully get a few good punches in this time, but his body fails him and Ouma dashes away.

Harukawa’s the one who helps him up. He can’t bring himself to take Saihara’s outstretched hand, nor can he bear to look him in the eyes.

Saihara flinches backwards and for a moment he feels ashamed before his lungs betray him and he’s hacking up blood all over the trial room in front of everyone, because things just had to be worse, apparently.

 

Harukawa is reluctant to leave him.

He flashes her a smile as he sinks down into his bed. He should probably change out of his blood soaked clothes, but it just doesn’t feel important right now. “Don’t worry about me, Harumaki! I’ll be fine.”

He can tell she doesn’t believe him, but she relents, closing the door slowly behind her as she reluctantly leaves.

Kaito stares up at the ceiling of his awful, awful dorm room. He hates it.

Back at home, at his grandparents’ place, he had glow in the dark stars stuck to his ceiling that he could stare at until he fell asleep. It’s such an insignificant thing, but he thinks it would make him feel better, if only by a little bit.

The home planet machine that Saihara gave him rests on his dresser and he moves to flip it on before he stops.

Saihara.

Saihara hadn’t done anything wrong, not really. He’d uncovered the truth, just like Kaito had encouraged him to do.

No, he was the one at fault. He was the one who drew out the trial for that much longer, who caused Gonta so much more unnecessary pain. And in the end, Ouma had gotten the last laugh, he’d won, he’d given them the awful truth that they’d begged for and proved his stupid point.

Saihara hadn’t done anything wrong, but Kaito’s not sure he can face him again. He was supposed to be the hero. He was supposed to protect Saihara, but instead his sidekick had done all the work, had fought against him because this time he was on the wrong side.

He slams his fist down against the bed. “Fuck!”

The silence is the only thing that answers him.

 

When voting time comes, he’s still filled with rage. He clutches the side of his podium with shaking hands.

Gonta’s crying in the background.

He clicks Ouma’s name with all the venom he feels.

Everyone else votes for Gonta, so it doesn’t matter, not really.

 

There’s too much blood.

Maybe it looks worse than it is?

There’s only so long he can keep telling himself that, and the pulsing in his head as he staggers, gasping at the night air as blood drips down his chin tells him that time is up.

Hell, his time is almost up as well.

Tears prickle at the corners of his eyes and he shoves them back. No way he’s gonna cry. He hasn’t cried since Akamatsu’s execution, when he’d struck and yelled at Saihara and hoped that nobody would look too closely at his face. He won’t start again now.

His breath hitches in his throat anyway as he turns his head upwards to the dark sky. The stars are all wrong, but they’re pretty all the same.

He wishes he could have been up there, just once.

 

He hauls the lot of weapons into the gym along with Harukawa, who insisted upon helping him despite his protests. He would have liked to ask Gonta for help…

He’s not gonna think about that right now. He needs all his mental willpower to fight Monokuma. There’s no exisals left, so maybe, maybe now this will work.

Screw the rules, he’s going to die anyway.

He remembers hearing a saying at some point that a cornered dog can jump a wall. It’s probably fitting for this situation. Or something like that, he doesn’t care about analogies or whatever. There are more pressing issues on hand.

 

Yelling does nothing and neither does pounding on the bathroom walls, and eventually Kaito gives up as his body tires. The sink in the bathroom is a small mercy, and when he starts coughing blood again, he can at least drink the gross sink water to wash out the taste.

He takes a seat on the floor; he’s not gonna sit on the toilet, that’s just weird, and he begins to contemplate his current options. The window is far too small to fit through and the door is locked tight and far too strong to break down. Even if he does manage to get through, Ouma still has the exisals, and it would be hard enough to take on one of them empty handed in the best of physical conditions, much less as he is now.

So he spends his time coming up with an increasingly long list of expletives to call Ouma when he next opens the door. If he next opens the door.

It at least gives him something to do besides think about _that._

He shivers involuntarily. _So this is what drove Gonta to kill._

He can’t deny that it’s a nightmare, one that he won’t be forgetting for a long time. Even knowing he’s technically been to space can’t cheer him up. It’s not like he was awake anyways.

He sighs and resolves to try to hit Ouma with a shoe if he comes by again.

 

His sense of time is completely gone without even the constant that is Monokuma’s nighttime announcement, so he can’t be sure just when Ouma returns, but it feels like an awfully long time, being stuck in the bathroom all alone.

Ouma only opens the door a crack, eyes glinting at him, and Kaito is mostly disappointed that his shoe plan isn’t going to work now. Ouma reaches one arm into the bathroom and drops a plastic bag onto the ground with a thump.

Kaito glances at it, then back up at Ouma. “Fuck you.”

The other boy’s expression is unreadable through the narrow gap. “And here I was being so nice to you. I brought you food and everything. Even though it’s totally poisoned.” Okay, he’s definitely doing his stupid pouting routine.

“I’m not gonna be grateful when you trapped me here, you ass! Also, you’re the goddamn mastermind! Fuck. You.”

“Well, I’m not too interested in standing here and letting Momota-chan curse me out. But if you want, you can pretend I’m listening and scream at the door.”

With that, he shut the bathroom door.

Kaito fixes it with a burning glare, as if he could perhaps bore a hole straight through it and into Ouma. After a moment, he begins to feel a bit silly. As much as he’d rather not accept anything from that bastard, his stomach has other plans and he can see the outline of a bottle of oolong tea through the plastic of the bag. He better be lying about the poison, he has to be, he could have killed Kaito with the exisals at any point.

He devotes his time to opening it quietly so hopefully Ouma won’t hear.

Inside is the tea, a piece of astro cake, and a box of caramels or something that smells absolutely disgusting. He chucks them in the toilet and dedicates himself to eating the rest.

There’s also a magazine with bikini-clad models on the cover that he might be interested in during different circumstances, but he has no interest in reading anything Ouma gives him, so he stuffs that into the toilet as well.

The cake is pretty good, especially when he’s this hungry, and the tea is fine as well, and so he has himself a little party in this stupid bathroom while he waits.

 

Harukawa shows up at the bathroom window with a determined glare fixed on her face, promising to get Kaito out and “take care” of Ouma.

Kaito knows what she means, and can only hope that it wouldn’t come to that, because for as much of a monster as Ouma is, he doesn’t want her to have to kill anyone ever again.

So he smiles and promises that it’ll be okay.

Saihara shows up later and Kaito decides he’d rather not die without making amends. It’s not as hard as he thought it would be.

 The others are coming to rescue him, he learns.

Well, he’s not gonna stand by and do nothing.

 

He gets his opportunity soon enough. The minute the door starts to open, he aims the crossbow at the gap, checks for a second to make sure he won’t hit anything vital, and fires.

Ouma stumbles backwards and Kaito throws himself against the bathroom door, dropping the now-useless crossbow. He may be weaker than before, but he has the element of surprise at least, and with a crossbow bolt imbedded in his arm, Ouma’s less adept at fighting back.

He tries anyway, ducking down to head-butt him or something, but Kaito slams his elbow into Ouma’s chest, and the other just barely manages to avoid falling backwards by latching onto Kaito’s jacket.

In their tussle, it takes a couple seconds for either of them to notice the sound of the hanger door opening.

 

It turns out that crossbow bolts hurt like hell, and Kaito feels a bit of sympathy for Ouma, who has two stuck in him.

He’s not sure quite what possessed him to shove his arm in front of Ouma, and it’s looking to be a pretty stupid choice, what with them apparently being poisoned and all. So now they’ll probably both die.

Harukawa has run off somewhere, and so Kaito and Ouma are left in the hanger alone, neither in any condition to fight anymore. They’re both breathing heavily, exhausted, and for a moment, their eyes meet before Kaito snaps his gaze away.

For a few minutes, the hanger is engulfed in silence save for the sounds of breathing, before Harukawa’s voice yells out from the bathroom window.

 

He’s going to die.

 This is it, this is the end.

He can hear Harukawa shouting in the distance, but his eyes stay fixed on Ouma, who has the antidote pressed to his lips.

Dammit.

He does his best to reassure Harukawa one last time, to at least send her off before she has to watch him die or anything like that.

She agrees, and the minute she darts away from the window, Ouma snatches something from his scarf in a blur of pink and throws it.

The next thing Kaito knows, Ouma’s crouched down beside him, pressing something cool into his hand.

And the plan begins.

 

Kaito stares up at the cold steel of the press above him, and all he can think is that this would be a terrible way to die.

The relief he feels when the machine comes to a stop is overshadowed by the guilt that he’s not the one who has to worry about such a thing.

He’s not sure what to say about Ouma’s explanation on why he’s the one who’s dying. After all, Kaito’s more or less dead already, he can feel his body failing him by now, and if everything goes according to plan, then the culprit shouldn’t have to be executed. But that’s not going to matter if he dies anyways, so really, it should be Ouma inside the exisal.

He decides not to question it. He’s long given up on trying to understand all of the other boy’s motives.

Ouma is slouched over the railing, barely able to support himself, and Kaito has to carry him to his deathbed and help him get his shirt off. He doesn’t say anything, for once, which is enough for Kaito to know he must be really out of it. He is dying, after all.

Kaito takes a shaky breath. This is all so fucked up.

Ouma smiles at him anyway, even if it’s a fake, pained smile, but when he thinks about it, it’s not that different from any of Ouma’s other smiles.

He wonders if any of those smiles had been real at all.

Ouma manages to get under the press by himself, which Kaito can’t help but feel slightly relieved over, because he’s not sure he could manage to push Ouma onto it himself. Push him to his death.

Ouma stares blankly up at the metal above him, and suddenly Kaito’s aware of just how small he looks under there. There are tears in the corners of his eyes, Kaito’s pretty sure, and he can’t really blame him.

He feels like he should say something, though he’s not sure what. What are you supposed to say in a situation like this? He has no idea.

But he feels like he owes it to Ouma to try anyway, because he’s not the one who’s about to die a horrible, painful death. No, that’ll probably come later for him.

“Um, look…” This is uncomfortable. “Look, I, fuck, this whole thing is pretty messed up, but…”

Ouma’s face remains blank, and Kaito wonders if he can hear him at all.

“But I guess you were alright in the end, maybe. Like, even if you were kind of an ass, I guess, I don’t hate you, not really.”

He’s not sure if what he’s said is true or not, but with all Ouma’s talk about truth and lies, hopefully it won’t matter. Hopefully it will be a truth for him.

There’s still no response.

He tries to take Ouma’s hand, like maybe that’ll offer some sort of comfort, but apparently Ouma’s not too pleased with that as he jerks away with a hiss.

Okay then. He can’t really be surprised. They weren’t exactly friends and it’s far too late to change that now.

Was there a time when it _could_ be possible to change that? Kaito doesn’t know.

He makes his way back up to the control panel to commit his first and hopefully last murder. Or assisted suicide, he supposes. Same difference.

Before he can chicken out or change his mind, he slams his fist on the button and switched on the camera.

He is prepared for it to be gory, or at least he thought so. What he isn’t expecting was the smell that came along with the splattering of blood and organs and everything else that is in the human body and he presses a hand over his mouth and nose, trying not to vomit as the overpowering stench of blood and every other indescribable but revolting odor swirls around him.

No, he doesn’t have time for this.

He settles for tying Ouma’s scarf over his face, even though he has to abandon it to the toilet a few minutes later. He can’t get inside the exisal soon enough.

Fortunately, it has an air filtration system.

He finishes by crushing the cord of the press. His tasks are done for now.

He closes the visor of the exisal. He’d rather not stare at the remains of Ouma’s body until morning.

With that, he takes the time to look around the tiny compartment of the exisal. Within it is, to his surprise, one of his spare jackets. How much did Ouma plan out?

Along with it is several packets of the caramels Ouma had given to him. He pops one into his mouth, just to see. It’s disgusting, but he swallows it anyway.

The only remaining items are several plastic bags, which Kaito realizes the use for a couple minutes later when he starts coughing blood again, and Ouma’s notebook.

Ouma’s notebook. The plan that Kaito is supposed to follow. The script for him to read from is dog eared for his benefit, and it’s surprisingly organized and neat.

The idea that he’s holding a notebook that belonged to a dead boy hits him and he shivers slightly.

This is the last thing Ouma wrote in. it’s the last thing he left behind.

He flips to the front of the notebook. He’s not sure why, but maybe, maybe if he reads this whole thing, then he can figure Ouma out or something. Or maybe just a little bit of closure.

The notebook is titled “Notebook version 5.0”, with a scribbled doodle of what Kaito assumes must by Ouma’s face in the corner of the first page, flashing a v sign.

He flips to the next page.

The first few pages are filled with scribbled out plans that Kaito can’t make out, and it’s not until about a quarter of the way into the notes that it becomes legible. Pages after pages of plans, most taking place in the hanger. Plans designed to end the killing game. He can’t understand most of them, Ouma’s doodles aren’t particularly coherent, but he gets the general gist. A lot of the plans involve him.

A lot of the plans involve Ouma dying.

There are some that involve him dying as well.

None of them involve Ouma killing him though.

He’s not sure what to make of it. He flips through the notebook, from the front to the back, looking for some sort of message that Ouma might have left behind. Something for him, maybe. Something besides convoluted plans and a script specifically made for Kaito.

There’s nothing.

He checks around the exisal interior, hoping that there will be a note or a letter. He’s not sure what he’s expecting to find, not sure what type of message he wants to see or what that would even mean. But it doesn’t matter, because there isn’t anything besides the few items Ouma stowed away.

So that’s it then. The only things that remain of Kokichi Ouma are an impersonal notebook and a puddle of blood drying on the hanger floor.

Kaito coughs into the bag again. The exisal is starting to smell like blood too. He tastes copper in his mouth.

Ignore it.

He leans back, placing the notebook on his lap and covering himself with his jacket as he waits for morning.

 

Kaito goes to space, just once.

He dies with a smile on his face.


End file.
